The Japanese auteur’s latest shows nothing more clearly than its untapped potential.
To paraphrase the Sex Pistols, the title character of Anaïs In Love doesn’t know what she wants, but she knows how to get it.
A collage-like tale of vengeance told with an often impressionistic elusiveness, the film can also be bewildering in its juxtapositions.
There are clichés and then there are only clichés, and Firebird is suffocated by them.
The Cathedral is a deeply humanist film, but it’s also a relentlessly bleak exorcism of a family’s intolerances.
The Bad Guys is a heist film that steals all of its moves.
Eggers discusses how he came to comprehend Viking mentality and morality, as well as how he executes his meticulous method on set.
The Innocents adopts a slasher-esque vibe that, however airlessly aestheticized, feels lurid for the sake of being lurid.
The film’s depiction of life impacted by urban transformation conjures a palpable aura of entrapment and helplessness.
The film emerges from a bottomless well of Italian folk tradition, its narrative elaborately draped in veils of hearsay and scuttlebutt.
The slipperiness of that word, “reel,” points to cinema’s complicated relationship to the reality of what it shows the audience.
Despite this clever setup, Tom Gormican’s film isn’t the self-reflexive skewering of Hollywood that one might expect.
Jacques Audiard discusses how he avoided packaging Paris in nostalgic trappings, and what motivated his stylistic choices.
This year’s Cannes lineup is, for now, a Lynch-less one, but it’s nonetheless stacked with new works by other established auteurs.
The film is a show of Old Testament judgment that sees all people as sinners and thus deserving of all the punishment they receive.
Once the film digresses from its focus on lovers trying to learn from love’s failures, its desperation becomes unmistakable.
Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert discuss why they think the world has caught up to their style of storytelling.
Eggers’s film doesn’t lack for blood and guts, but it doesn’t play enough in the well of the weird.
The film confidently oscillates between the playfully on the nose and the existentially profound.
Rarely have Michael Bay’s frenzied stylistic tics been so effectively intertwined with the substance of one of his films.
Metal Lords betrays rather than upholds the values of the very kids it wants to revere.